The Stolen Da Vinci Manuscripts Read Online Free Page A

the previous one with a
disapproving look from the clerk.
    “I was wondering how many guests you have
staying here.” I explained.
    I continue to scan until I see the number of
Luigi Marconi’s room – 207 and push the register away with
disinterest.
    My rooms are decorated in a style reminiscent
of the storage basement of the Metropolitan museum so I feel quite
at home. Next on the itinerary is to become intimately familiar
with the hotel and to this end I walk the corridors and stairs down
to the lobby, paying particular attention to the second floor. The
fire escapes are like any others and easily accessible. Back at my
rooms I sketch the images in my mind to paper and retire with a
Sydney Sheldon novel and glass of Johnny Walker Black Label.
     
    It’s easy to spot Marconi at breakfast –
guests not used to staying in first class hotels display an
uneasiness complex. Marconi appeared at the door and didn’t know
what to do – sit or wait to be seated? It’s written all over his
face. He knows whatever his decision it will be the wrong one, so
he waits while other guests walk past him and seat themselves. A
waitress diverts and suggests a table, which he takes with a
“Grazie”.
    Aha, I am right. He is pretty much as I
expected – black slicked back hair, pencil moustache, high cheek
bones and a pointy nose. He is dressed in an ill-fitting white suit
with black pinstripes, black tie and matching shoes that would look
more in place on a golf course. Now, he is off somewhere after
eating – so I need to decide whether to follow or check out his
room. I’ll follow – it’s likely that he has placed a ‘please clean’
hang tag on his door and I cannot risk discovery by cleaning
staff.
    He carries nothing when leaving the hotel
which means he already found a buyer or has the box secured
somewhere. We head south on foot along Bruxelles Boulevard before
turning left onto Bath Street and he enters an alley between
buildings. I watch from the entrance until he disappears from sight
and I continue down. There are two doorways where I lost sight of
him and neither looks inviting, but I see cobwebs undisturbed on
one of the handles. I crouch to look through the keyhole of the
other door and just as I get to peer through I am grabbed by the
neck and slammed roughly against the paneling. My karate skills
kick in automatically and I seize the wrist and twist under it to
reverse the situation and come up behind the assailant. I kick his
feet out and drop him to his knees before slamming his head twice
into the hefty frame and get out of there before I’m discovered by
anyone else. My heart pounds when I enter a shopping mall three
blocks away and look for signs of being followed, but I see
no-one.
    The reason I was attacked is obviously
related to Marconi, but why? It would seem that he has made contact
with buyers for the books and if this is the case, he hasn’t
delivered them yet. I have to get back there and stake out the
place and to that end purchase a smock and hat from the store
before securing a good vantage point. A man’s head pops out from
inside the alley every thirty seconds or so and scans the street
but pays no attention to the woman looking in the antique shop
window.
    Marconi appears after five minutes and I walk
ahead but allow him to overtake me. He leads me to the Suisse Bank
and reappears with a brown paper wrapped parcel of about the size
Roberto described. It’s a good bet that these are the da Vinci
books and I quiver with the feeling of being so close. I expect him
to return to the alley, but instead he heads to the hotel via a
meandering route, being fearful of being tailed. I maintain
anonymity by discarding the smock and hat at different locations
and donning sun glasses that I picked up surreptitiously from a
vendor stand. I pick a magazine and sit in the lobby while I
develop a plan.
    To this day I kick myself for not being aware
of the person that was following me . In retrospect, he